


❛ say yes to heaven ❜

by thehyades



Series: Mermaid Mania [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Harrington, Car Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Idiots in Love, Lifeguard Billy Hargrove, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Steve Harrington's Scoops Ahoy Uniform, Stranger Things 3, this is just gratuitous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyades/pseuds/thehyades
Summary: Billy chuckles. It’s a rough sound. A fucking sinful sound. “Sailor,” he breathes, “you tired already?”or Billy indulges in a fantasy and Steve tries not to fall apart.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Mermaid Mania [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004265
Comments: 14
Kudos: 229





	❛ say yes to heaven ❜

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'yes to heaven' by lana del rey. 
> 
> i just wanted lifeguard!billy and scoopsahoy!steve to meet and this happened? i have no regrets.

**⇊**

**S** teve should be working. He should be stood behind the counter at _Scoops Ahoy_ with that stupid hat perched on his head and a plastic smile ready to welcome sailors aboard the ship but he’s not — instead Billy Hargrove’s fucking him excruciatingly well in the back of his Camaro.

Billy left it in the far corner of the parking lot where the delivery trucks sit and the great shadows of the manicured trees give them cover.

The late June heat is oppressive. It’s hot. Hot and sweaty and filled with the sound of breathy moans and soft curses passing between them. Their bodies stick to the sweat-slick leather as the car rocks. Sometimes, Steve wonders what his parents would think if they saw him like this. On his back with Billy Hargrove between his legs, Billy Hargrove on his tongue, Billy Hargrove etched in his heart. Steve doubts it was the plan his dad had for him when he made Steve get a summer job as punishment for — for God knows what. Something stupid. Probably smoking weed. He hasn’t been very careful lately.

Steve’s losing the last of the strength he’s using to prop his foot up on the back of the driver’s seat and his other foot rests against the back window. Having long legs has some major disadvantages. Billy huffs into his shoulder and rolls his hips like a porn star between his thighs. Steve moans. Heat spills from the pit of his stomach to his chest and limbs and his foot slips off the driver’s seat and awkwardly onto the floor.

Billy chuckles. It’s a rough sound. A fucking sinful sound. “Sailor,” he breathes, “you tired already?”

Billy wraps his hand under Steve’s thigh and lifts his leg so it rests on Billy’s shoulder. Steve groans at the angle change and the spikes of bright heat it sends jolting through him. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and swallows. His heart kickstarts in his chest.

It turns out Billy has a _thing_ for sailors or maybe just Steve as a sailor, whatever it is, it made Billy insist on fucking Steve in his _Scoops Ahoy_ uniform. If Billy didn’t turn his brain into jelly with a single look, Steve would have said something sensible like _no, asshole, it takes several washes to get the stains out_ but Steve didn’t say that. Steve just moaned and let Billy peel his shorts off and leave them hanging on one leg as he took Steve in his mouth. Steve's brain had circuited then, any protests or attempts at logic melted in the wet heat of Billy's mouth.

Steve’s hat is somewhere on the dashboard, his shirt is ruffled up to nipples, his shoes are scattered on the floor and the front driver’s seat and he’s still wearing his knee-high socks because Billy insisted on that too. Unlike Steve, Billy is fully naked, he stripped off his lifeguard uniform in seconds and laid Steve out on the leather seats. The only thing he wears is the pendant that’s always dangling around on his defined chest.

“Tired?” Steve huffs, breathless, teetering on the edge of something like madness. “This is the — _fuck_ , I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve made me come.”

It’s meant to be a short break. New employees only get a half hour break. If you’re here for a year you get an hour (Steve prays to God he’s not at _Scoops Ahoy_ next summer) but otherwise, it’s just thirty minutes. The morning shift always drags by so slowly but it’s not so bad when Robin is with him. At lunch, Steve usually goes down to the food court with Robin where they people-watch and guess the conversations in funny voices.

But then Billy made a surprise appearance when Steve was throwing sprinkles on some ginger kid’s order. Billy, tanned and beautiful, in his lifeguard uniform sliding into one of the booth’s with a disarming grin aimed at Steve. Billy had lounged in the booth, all broad shoulders and toned muscles, and spread his legs wide beneath the table in a way Robin had once dubbed _big dick energy_ and made Steve almost choke on his blueberry sundae.

Billy had waited for Steve to finish serving the ginger kid before he slid up to the counter with the whistle between his cherry-red lips and pointed to _Mermaid Mania_ on the laminated menu he’d stolen from a table of giggling tweens. Steve’s heart had skipped a beat in response.

 _Bein’ a lifeguard's borin’,_ Billy had said to him two weeks before that as they lounged in Steve’s extensive back garden. Steve had spent much of the early afternoon sinfully riding Billy on the deck chairs or swimming in the pool when they broke apart to catch their breaths. _I’m sick of the middle-aged moms gawkin’ at me, I’d rather be at the mall gawkin’ at you in that little sailor costume, pretty boy._ And he’d bopped Steve’s nose and laughed like Peter Pan when Steve batted his hand away. _We need a code. Do you know the Scoops Ahoy menu by heart?_

 _Yeah,_ Steve had said with a flash of pride then frowned when he realised just how lame that was. Would that be his defining achievement of the summer? Memorising the _Scoops Ahoy_ menu? Had his life devolved that badly? He reminded himself of his own rule to not think of the dreaded Post Summer era travelling towards them with brutal speed. He reminded himself of the present. Billy Hargrove — King Bee, Steve Harrington’s archnemesis, pscyhopath in the streets, porn star in the sheets— sat in his deck chair looking golden and gorgeous and thinking of ways to spend more time with Steve.

Billy had thrown him a grin from where he lounged on the deck chair. He slid his Ray Bans up into his hair. Summer blue eyes met chocolate brown. _Alright,_ Billy grinned in a way that made Steve want to kiss him breathless. He had tied his mullet back in a low bun, some of his golden curls had escaped the hold and loosely framed his face. _Name the sundaes and I’ll tell you the meaning._

Steve had bit his lip to stop himself from smiling, then paused as he tried to remember all the sundaes. _Scoops Knickerbocker Glory,_ he said, grabbing sunscreen from the under the deck chair and applying to his arms.

Billy shook his head, _Jesus, what a lame fuckin’ name, I can’t believe you work there._

At this point, they were about two months into the whole _sort-of_ friends with _lots of_ benefits thing they had kept haphazardly falling into at various house parties in the final semester of high school. Steve kicked his deck chair and revelled in the echoing sound of Billy’s laughter in the late afternoon. _Scoops Knickerbocker Glory. Tell me the meaning, asshole._

Billy hummed, _blowjob. If I come up to the counter and point to that stupid sundae I want a blowjob or you want a blowjob, whoever points to the menu really._

Steve had scrunched up his nose, _I’m not running a brothel here, Billy._

Billy rolled his eyes and smiled, all lopsided and boy-ish and Steve wondered if this was what Billy had been like in California, before Mr. Hargrove dragged him kicking and screaming to sepia-toned Hawkins in the middle of nowhere.

 _I know you’re not._ Billy said, his smile turning lewd and transforming Steve’s stomach into never-ending knots. _You think I’d ever share you with anyone, pretty boy?_

Steve had blushed, glanced away and rubbed sunscreen down his legs. When he got his heart back in control he said, _Mermaid Mania._

Steve made the mistake of looking at Billy, their gazes met and Billy had said, _I wanna fuck._

Steve doesn’t know how much time has passed but he’s passed the point of caring. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been at this. He stopped counting around his third orgasm and with the way Billy is fucking him, deep strokes and languid rolls of his hips that evaporate the air in his lungs, Steve is well on his way to his fourth — orpossibly fifth. He’s lost count. Billy has turned him into a whimpering mess, all he can do is lie back and hold on.

Steve pants, sliding his fingers into Billy’s mane of golden curls and buries his nose in it. He breathes in the citrus-sharp scent of the lemon shampoo Billy uses. It blends in with Billy’s sandalwood cologne, rich against the sweat and perfumed sunscreen glazing his tanned skin.

Billy leans down, presses wet kisses up Steve’s neck and nibbles at his earlobe before he pauses to whisper, “so fuckin’ pretty”.

He keeps saying that, keeps mumbling it into Steve’s skin or his hair as his hands roam all over his body. Billy’s touch leaves a hot trail of sparks skittering beneath his hot skin.

Steve whimpers. “ _Ah_ — shut up, m’not.”

Steve isn’t pretty, he’s a sweaty mess who can’t even form proper sentences. His hair, which was perfectly styled before Billy dragged him into the car, is damp and sticking to his forehead. Billy keeps sweeping Steve’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. Steve’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire which means he’s probably as red as a tomato from his face to his chest.

His mouth has been hanging open this entire time, probably tomato-red too and swollen because Billy’s kisses come with bites when they’re fucking. Every time Steve closes his mouth (or tries to) Billy is on him, giving him tongue-deep kisses that make his toes curl or sliding his thumb into Steve’s mouth and groaning when Steve sucks on it as Billy keeps up a unrelenting pace that promises to send Steve tumbling over the edge.

“But you are,” Billy insists, slipping his thumb between Steve’s kiss-swollen lips, “ _so, so, so_ fuckin’ pretty.”

Billy, Steve is starting to realise, might also have a thing for his mouth. Billy nibbles the underside of his jaw, kisses the twin moles on his neck. Billy’s teeth graze the skin.

“…can’t leave a mark,” Steve reminds him, whispering roughly into Billy’s ear with a shiver and locks his legs around Billy’s waist. He trails a hand up and down Billy’s muscled abdomen and rests his other one on Billy’s taut back. There’s no way he can walk back into _Scoops Ahoy_ with the bruises Billy likes to suck and bite into his neck.

Billy growls then, a deep, guttural sound. It sends lava pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Fuckin’ why not?” He asks against his neck, his voice echoes through Steve and he can’t help but shiver again.

Billy likes marking him there. It’s the first thing he does whenever they’re alone and yeah, admittedly, Steve likes it too. He likes hopping out of the shower or changing his shirt and catching sight of the hickey and remembering the heat of Billy’s mouth when he pushed Steve against the wall and sucked it in. It usually fades within a few days and if it doesn't Steve steals his mom’s concealer to hide it but — “you...you know why,” Steve says between faint gasps.

 _A_ , Robin would never let him forget it.

 _And B_ , how the hell is he meant to explain it to the kids when they (Dustin or Max most likely) spot it and bombard him with embarrassing questions? As far as they’re concerned Steve’s love life is dead. Even if he were to miraculously say, _Billy gave me the hickey_ they would think he was possessed by the Mind Flayer because once again, as far as they’re concerned Steve and Billy still hate each other. Which would then bring up another mountain of questions Steve isn’t ready to answer.

Robin only knows about him and Billy because she caught them making out in the cramped storage closet of _Scoops Ahoy_ in mid-May. Before either of them could react, Robin had smirked, said, _I like pussy,_ and shut the door.

Steve had stared after her with his jaw hanging in shock and Billy had chuckled, shook his head and mumbled something like _lucky you’re so pretty_ before he slid a hand behind Steve’s neck and tugged him close for a knee-weakening kiss.

Now, Billy presses a kiss into his neck and grumbles, “you worry too much, princess.”

With the hand splayed on Billy's chest, Steve feels the rapid beat of his heart before he nudges Billy up. It's too hot in here. He would ask Billy to crack a window or something but they can't risk being heard.

Billy leans back and Steve props up himself onto his elbow so he can rest both of his shaking legs on Billy’s thighs. Billy slides both his hands under his ass and lifts him off the seat again, a little higher this time and Steve’s heart threatens to explode from the blazing pleasure the new position’s sets off. Billy moves with renewed vigour, Steve whines helplessly as he watches their hips meet. Billy’s pendant glints in the sunlight between them.

He feels weak and heady and oversensitive from all the orgasms Billy pulled out of him but he still wants more. He still wants Billy, the need burns in his veins and Billy’s the only one who can soothe it. Steve glances up to find Billy’s already looking at him. His eyes, once true blue, have darkened to a pitch black. His curls bounce along his shoulders and shine golden in the summer light.

Vaguely, Steve wonders if he slipped on ice cream today, died and woke up in some Starcourt Mall version of heaven. Curly locks fall in Billy’s eyes and Steve can’t help but think he’s gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, it’s all he ever thinks when he looks at Billy. If Steve had the strength he would lift his hand to tuck the curls away but he doesn’t, he can barely keep himself up on his elbows right now.

All he can do is take what Billy’s giving him and let Billy take what he wants.

" _Billy_ ," Steve moans. "Billy, I...I'm..."

 _I think I'm going mad, you're driving me mad,_ he wants to say but the words are lodged in his throat. Damn it, it's too fucking hot in this car but there's no way Steve can stop now. A volcano could erupt six feet from them and he'd tell Billy to keep going. 

"You're what?" Billy says, squeezing his ass with both hands. That smirk shouldn't make the butterflies appear in Steve's chest but it does and Billy shouldn't look this good above him but he does because Steve is gone for this asshole. "C'mon. Use that pretty mouth."

Steve hooks his finger into Billy's pendant and draws him down until their lips are inches apart and they're breathing into each other's mouths. 

"Shut up," Steve gasps against Billy's lips, trying to sound serious but Billy snaps his hips just right and it comes out half-hearted and winded. " _Fuck,_ fuck you."

An electrical storm, invisible and bulbous, lives in the car with them or perhaps they are the storm and they'll blow the world away if they're not careful. 

Billy's answering grin is lightning hot and Steve almost comes then and there. " _Hm_. Kinda in the middle of that, sweetheart."

Steve's heart squeezes tightly in response. He lets go of Billy's pendant and pushes his hand against Billy's chest, feels his heart wildly beating again and reaches up to plaster his other hand against the window behind him for balance.

" _Billy_ ," Steve groans as Billy moves his hips in electricity-sparking circles. Steve wetly licks his lips and Billy's breath hitches. He watches Steve with a dark kind of hunger now and something else, something Steve doesn't have the emotional or mental energy to name and it's...it's too much. 

" _Steve_." Billy groans back, lightly brushing their lips together He sounds as winded as Steve. "You...you pretty fuckin' thing." Then, Billy drowns Steve in the filthiest kiss that has Steve's toes curling again. All tongues and moans and bites and night-black intent. 

When Billy pulls back they're both breathing hard and gazing into each other's eyes and Steve's lips are tingling like firecrackers from the intensity of his kiss. Billy leans back a little and slides his hands up and down Steve's thighs. Steve draws in a breath, trying to calm his drumming heart. He's not going to last if he Billy keeps looking at him like that and he needs to or Billy is gonna give him shit for it.

According to Billy, tapping out after three rounds is _fuckin' sad, get some stamina_. Goddamnit, Steve has stamina, okay? It's why he was one of the top players on the basketball team and it's why he hasn't passed out from heatstroke fucking Billy in his Camaro for the last -- shit, how long has it been again? Billy had time collapsing all around Steve with each thrust. He's definitely blown through his half hour break.

So, yeah, Steve can't look at Billy for long without coming. His gaze skipping to something behind Billy’s shoulder for the moment. He needs a break, looking at Billy is like looking at the sun. If you stare for too long you will be blinded.

It’s a good thing he does look away because that’s when Steve spots him. It takes a few seconds to push through the pleasure and make his eyes focus. There, several cars away, standing in the middle of the parking lot is Neil fucking Hargrove. Steve can recognise that moustache and those beady eyes anywhere. Mr. Hargrove stares into the trunk of his car, frowning slightly as he rummages through it.

When Steve focuses back on Billy, Billy has dripped down and he’s nibbling at Steve’s neck, teasing like he’s going to bite him. Steve looks past Billy’s shoulder. Neil has shut the trunk and he’s walking towards them, towards the meter for the parking lot just a few feet from the Camaro. Fear and arousal battle in his gut and Steve feels like a paper boat lost in the wild ocean. _Fuck_ , he’s going to see them. He’s going to see them and he’s going to kill either one or both of them.

He tries to say, _your dad's behind us, he's..._ “...coming,” Steve croaks, trying to warn him but his voice isn’t working. Billy has ripped all the sound from him.

“Yeah,” Billy pants into his neck, “me too.”

He’s not getting it. Steve tries to form the word _no_ or something more sophisticated like _no, your pscyho dad is coming our way_ but then Billy slides a hand under his ass, squeezes it and lifts him up higher and slams in and Steve is seeing stars. He loses his place in the universe. Up is down, down is up. The Earth spins with him or he’s spinning with the Earth it doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Billy Hargrove has perfected the art of destroying Steve Harrington. Steve stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop himself from crying out, biting down hard on his knuckles. The sharp pain grounds him, keeps him from losing so much of himself in Billy they melt into one.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Billy groans, voice dark and wrecked.

He pulls Steve’s fist from his mouth and sits up again. He pauses to take Steve’s other hand that was plastered back against the window and hold Steve’s wrists together against his stomach. Steve settles back against the leather seat. The grip is firm and not matter how much Steve wriggles he can’t free himself of it. It’s an electrifying reminder of Billy’s strength. He grips both of Steve’s wrists with one hand and with his other hand he presses bruising prints into his hips and starts fucking him in earnest.

Steve lets out long, broken whines because this is bad. This is bad because Steve is close to coming. _It’s just_ — Billy’s hitting the right angle with such punishing speed fireworks are igniting in his stomach and — _fuck_ — Billy’s gazing down at Steve like Steve was plucked right out of a wet dream. Steve whines again, fear lacing the lust raging through him at the thought Mr. Hargrove might have heard that. The thought is lost, kicked out of his mind when Billy’s free hand skates along his thigh, his stomach, chest and pushes past his shirt to tweak his nipple. A fresh wave of arousal twined with fear zips down his spine as Steve bucks up.

 _Oh, no. Oh fuck, fuck,_ Steve thinks dazedly, _he’s gonna make me come and his dad will hear me. The whole mall will. The whole of Hawkins._

 _“Billy—”_ he chokes, mouth agape as he tries to warn him again but’s too late, there’s nothing he can do to stop it. The wave is rising, cresting and lapping. Lava-like heat builds and tightens into coils in his stomach and Billy won’t let up the pace.

Obscene.

Everything about this is obscene.

From the sound of slapping skin to the little moans Billy breathes into his mouth between dizzying kisses to the car creaking as it rocks with them to the downright filthy things Billy whispers in a ruined voice. Whispering about how pretty Steve is, about how maddening he feels, about all the things he’s going to do to Steve later in the privacy of Steve’s bedroom, all the positions he’s going to put him in, all the surfaces he’s going to fuck Steve on, all the exquisite noises he’s going to draw out of Steve and so loud he’ll alert the neighbours, the stretched-out hours he’s going to use taking Steve apart and having him begging and —just fucking obscene, okay. It’s the most obscene things Steve’s ever heard.

Billy still hasn’t let go of his wrists and he’s leaning over Steve, slamming into him now, splitting him open and burning hot and Steve imagines this is what the heart of a volcano feels like. The home of fire. Bright, unbearable heat sticky all over him and a delirious thought like _I don’t care if he catches us, I don’t care, I don’t care, if it ended right here I’d die happy, I —_ Billy slows down enough to pull a wispy moan from Steve and make them both cry out when he drives back in. If Billy keeps this up he’s going to make one of them scream and they’re gonna get caught.

Steve doesn’t have the same taste for danger and death as Billy. It doesn’t mean danger and death don’t have a taste for him, especially danger and death in the form of slimy dogs with faces that open up like flowers with teeth.

“ _Billy_ ,” Steve says hoarsely, trying to get Billy to lean down in some hopes Mr. Hargrove won’t see him. “Billy, kiss me.”

And Billy’s never denied Steve anything.

Billy swoops down, pressing himself fully over Steve and taking Steve in a bruising kiss that has his heart skipping too many beats. He finally lets go of Steve’s wrists and cups his face with both hands. Steve palms Billy’s ass as Billy rolls into him and makes both their breaths hitch. The waves rise and rise within Steve. It’s getting harder to breathe or see straight with the weight of the pounding tides of fire growing just to crash over him.

Then, because Billy is a bastard he winds a hand between them and wraps it around Steve and twists just _so_ and hits that angle again and he’s coming yet again with Billy’s name in his mouth. Vaguely, he’s aware of Billy following mere seconds later with the hottest moan Steve's ever heard. The world splinters. White hot, icy shards breaking part in the space between his bones and the ocean of liquid heat that rose within him comes thundering through him, spilling molten lava into every hollow space in his being and it feels like that Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold and silver.

And all Steve can do is cling onto Billy and distantly wonder if the world has ended yet.


End file.
